


behind every powerful man (there's a powerful woman, keeping his schedule)

by uberwaldian_connection



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, post 5x01, they're basically like harvey and donna minus the romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22420984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uberwaldian_connection/pseuds/uberwaldian_connection
Summary: Episode tag to 5x01 (E Pluribus Unum). The working relationship of Rusell and June, told in snippets. Because you don't just introduce an amazing guest character without expecting me to demand a backstory.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	behind every powerful man (there's a powerful woman, keeping his schedule)

**Author's Note:**

> sooo it turns out that years later I'm still bitter about June getting introduced and killed of within 30 minutes, which is why I found this fic in the depths of my google drive and decided to give it a shot. Plus, sitting inside of Russell Jackson's head turned to be unexpectedly fun. Un-beta'ed, so all the mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Russell meets June during one of those incredibly, unbelievably, just-shoot-me-boring meetings that are actually a bunch of egomaniacs cramped in a room and trying to outdo each other in giving the longest speech. He’s the advisor to one of the less dim-witted congressmen; June is the assistant to probably the eldest one in the room. While Russell is sweating slightly in his brand new shirt, desperately trying to figure out what the guy he’s supposed to advise to will say next, so that he can step in and do some damage control, June is mostly making sure that her boss doesn’t fall asleep or drop his glass of whisky. 

To be honest, she blends into the background with her fashionable hairstyle and a white shirt with pencil skirt ensemble. Russell wouldn’t even pay any attention to her - it’s not like he notices most of the people in the room unless he can see them on the Congress floor - if it weren’t for the incredibly sharp look he catches on her face when the conversation derails to beer factories somewhere in rural Pennsylvania. It lasts a second, maybe two, and then he looks away and she schools her features, probably not even registering that he was ever looking at her. 

For the next few days after that meeting Russell goes about his business as usual - the usual now involving an extremely messy divorce, sleeping at his desk and banging his head against the wall whenever his boss makes a public statement - and the long meeting and June fly out of his head as soon as they step out of that room. 

But then, when he is having his lunch break and going over his divorce papers for the tenth time, he notices June’s boss sitting at the table in the cafeteria, engrossed in an animated discussion with a journalist from ‘The Washington Post’, and giving out a passionate lecture about beer laws in Pennsylvania. 

The topic that was discussed at the last meeting and which he slept through. He even uses phrases that seem to be direct quotes. 

And he thinks to himself, _aha, so this is how it is._

He makes sure to introduce himself to June the very next day. 

—

It’s honestly ridiculous how hard he has to fight to get her, _get_ explicitly meaning 'being granted the honor of employing her'. 

Because June doesn’t just stab the people she works for in the back; no, she has to be so annoyingly _loyal._

'I’ll pay you more,' he pesters her while she’s pouring cream into her fourth coffee. It’s noon and they both already look like wrecks. 

'No, you won’t,' June says and looks at him as if he grew a second head. 'You can’t just make up government salaries.'

'It would come as a Christmas bonus.'

'Ah,' June nods, suddenly understanding. 'Because you, the lowly political advisor to a man who has a strong chance of losing the next Democratic primaries, suddenly have any sway over budgeting bonuses.’

He can’t decide whether he’s more offended or impressed. 

'Is there anything I can do to change your mind?' he finally _whines,_ deciding to give up the rest of his dignity. After a horrible date he had yesterday, and with a _freelance journalist_ for God’s sake, he doesn’t think he has a lot of it left, anyway. 

June looks at him, stirs her coffee and narrows her eyes. Her scrutinizing gaze reaches deep into his soul. 

'Tell me why you want to hire me, really. And do us both a favour and mean it, I think we both know I will smell it if you lie.'

'I want you to work for me because you’re the smartest person here,' he replies without hesitation. 'Without you, your boss would be nothing and no one would hear or care about him. I don’t think he realizes how much impact you have on him, and I think that if you were a man, you would already sit in his office. You know everyone here and remember the names of their kids, and spouses, and lovers. People underestimate you and you let them, because that way they never expect it when you hit.'

Her eyes are wide open and she’s staring at him, her coffee coup swaying dangerously to the side. He reaches out and straightens it in her hand, but she doesn’t take her eyes off his face. 

'I respect you, June,' he finally says. 'You’re right, I can’t offer you a better salary or a better office - I can barely offer you a desk - but I promise I can at least offer you that.' 

In retrospect, he will think that’s probably one of the dumbest things he’s ever said (it will be right up there with saying to a very pregnant Carol 'but I thought this dress fit you just last week?'), but somehow June understands. 

'You realize I can’t abandon Abernathy now,' she says very slowly. 'Not six months before the election.'

'That he’s going to lose,' Russell reminds her. 

She nods. 

'So after that…' 

'I will have to think about it,' she interrupts him, snapping back to her collected self and moving towards the door. 'I will let you know.'

They both know she will say yes. 

—

June does say yes and becomes the best goddamn secretary Russell has ever had. It’s like she can read his mind, which is both scary and impressive. She rules over his calendar with an iron fist, she color-codes his notes and reports and she can dig up the dirt on literally _anyone._

Russell is going through a phase in his life when he’s trying to fill existential dread with work, and in consequence spends most of his day in the office. June stays with him sometimes, and Russell strongly suspects it’s because she takes pity on him and wants to keep him company. She won’t ever pretend she has any work that needs finishing (he knows she prides herself on her efficiency, and that would ruin her reputation), so she just kind of hangs around and lets him test speeches on her. 

‘You need to find yourself a girlfriend,’ she finally tells him and pours them both a whisky. ‘Otherwise you’ll get stuck here forever and forget what the sun looks like.’

Russell snorts, but takes the glass from her outstretched hand.

‘Says the woman who chose to spend the evening here with me. When was the last time you went on a date?’

‘Last Thursday,’ she informs him and sips her scotch, ignoring his disbelieving look. ‘Although I don’t know if a date with my own husband counts.’

‘I didn’t know you were married,’ Russell says, and it’s true. The thought has never crossed his mind, although it probably should have; June is roughly his age or a bit older, but he can’t figure out by how much, and, if he were to admit it, reasonably attractive. It’s only logical she wouldn’t return home to an empty apartment and dying plants every evening. 

Somehow, the thought only makes him more depressed. 

'Well, I don’t think I ever told you,' June says. Then she cocks her head and gives him a long, hard stare. 'Is this going to be a problem?'

Russell just shrugs and raises the glass to his lips.

'Hey, your private life is your business. It just makes me wonder why you never mentioned being married, is all.'

'Some people think married women shouldn’t have the audacity and ambition to work in politics, even as secretaries,' June informs him. 'As if having a ring on my finger magically erased half of my abilities or personality.'

He knows right there and then she trusts him, because she would never say that in public to someone who could misinterpret her words.

'Well, you do what you need to do,' he finally says. ‘And if it’s of any consolation, the people who think that are idiots and one day they will get what’s coming to them.’

She gives out a laugh that sounds like a bark and continues to sip on her whisky. Outside, the evening slowly turns into a night. 

—

A few years down the road, and a few milestones happen - he meets Carol, overcomes the ridiculous trauma from his first marriage, proposes to Carol, gets married, is happy… 

And then Danny is born and he just... loses his goddamn mind. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the sleep deprivation or the end of the fiscal year or the fact that now he actually has to get home at a sensible hour or Carol will murder him (he knows the tone she’s using and he knows she means it), but he is just completely not handling it. It’s like his brain is constantly running on fumes and he can’t even begin to imagine how Carol feels, stuck all day with this crying monster baby that he loves to bits and would give up his life for. And Carol’s maternity leave is also nearing its end, which means that soon they will both turn into zombies with slim to none control of their lives. 

He stumbles into the office one morning, his shirt crumpled and covered in something sticky, with his glasses smudged and, he can swear it, less hair than he had the day before. Jude just looks at him, her hands frozen over the keyboard.

‘You look horrible,’ she says as a way of greeting. 

He grits his teeth. 

‘I know,’ he replies and makes a beeline for the coffee. 

'What happened to you?' 

She actually stands and leans against the desk, crossing her arms. 

'I went and had a baby,' he says, trying very hard not to snap at her. 'Like a complete idiot.'

'Ah,’ she says as if that explained everything. ‘We’ve all been there. The nighttime screaming is finally taking its toll on you?’ 

There’s something in her voice - a knowing tone, a slightly offensive suggestion of superiority - that makes Russell turn slowly to face her.

‘Yes,’ he says. And then, ‘please tell me you do not have any secret children you’ve managed to keep hidden from me.’

‘Why, Russell,’ she says airly, ‘don’t you remember that leave I took two years ago? I kept waiting for a congratulations card and a teddy bear, but they never came.’

It’s a sad testament to his mental state that he can’t tell whether she’s joking, and he must look adequately terrified because she takes pity on him and laughs. 

‘No, that never happened. I do have an eleven-year-old son, though. Eleven is a good age for a child to be, you have something to look forward to.’

Russell is still mentally stuck on an infinite loop of 'why does she always have to be so goddamn secretive?', so he almost doesn’t notice her walking away from him back to her desk.

‘What’s his name?’ He suddenly asks without thinking. June smiles.

‘George.’

Later that day, Russell uses his contacts in Social Security and finds out George’s birthday. He remembers to send him a card every year after that.

—

When June leaves his office, she makes it very clear that that is not a retirement and she can go back in at a moment’s notice. She handpicks and trains Adele to be her successor and the transition from one assistant to another is so smooth that Russell barely notices. 

He still makes a thing of calling Adele ‘June’ for a couple of months, just to keep her on her toes. 

—

The last time he sees June is right before everything goes to shit. They’ve been invited for a barbecue, Carol and him, and Russell finds himself surprised by how much he actually wants to go. 

June and her husband, Oscar, now have what can be called a long-distance relationship; he spends most of his retirement in Florida and tries to get her to come down there, but she insists on keeping a house in Bethesda. Neither will budge and Russell suspects only a toss of a coin can solve this dilemma. 

The Washington residence is a modest house with bright walls and a large yard. They have a dog, this huge Golden Retriever who jumps excitedly around them and tries to shove his nose up Carol’s skirt. 

The barbecue is a very low profile affair, just her family and a couple of friends who either have no idea who he is or have already worked with him and don’t care. The afternoon turns slowly into the evening, and then into the night. At some point Carol disappears inside the house, probably to discuss medicine with Oscar, and June’s son takes the dog for a short walk. The other guests have already gone home and it’s only Russell and June left sitting around the garden table. 

‘Quite chilly, is it,’ she remarks and wraps a scarf tighter around her neck.

Russell flashes her one of his rare smiles.

‘It’s not chilly down in Florida,’ he teases and is rewarded with a look of deep annoyance. ‘You could move there and have a perfect, warm, stress-free retirement.’

June falls silent for a moment. 

‘I do get tired of this, sometimes,’ she admits. ‘And I would never say it to anyone but you, but I could do with seeing my grandsons more often.’

‘So why don’t you go, then?’ he asks, his mind drifting off to the house in Vermont that he promised Carol years ago and that still seems like an unreachable dream. 

June scoffs. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous. One doesn’t just give up the White House. I will sooner drop dead than willingly retire.’

Russell honestly wishes he didn’t understand and share her sentiment. It would make his life, and his marriage, much easier. And yet here they are, having grown old and tired, still taunted by politics and ambition that would be more suited for people half their age. 

He raises his wine glass. Across the table, June does the same. 

‘To us, then,’ he says with uncharacteristic finality. ‘May we survive and still have enough strength left to meet here next year.’ 


End file.
